


Under an Orange-Coloured Sky

by Dragonie



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: (The One From Canon), Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Introspection, Microfic, Post-Game(s), Smoking, Two Dweebs Being Dweebs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 10:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20375227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonie/pseuds/Dragonie
Summary: There's just something about Megaton at sunset that encourages introspection, sitting out and staring at the town and thinking about the future...Luckily, Luna's idiot best(?) friend-slash-would-be gang leader is there to put a stop to all that nerd crap.(Microfic, LW and Butch friendship to get a hang of this malarkey)





	Under an Orange-Coloured Sky

The roof wasn’t much more than a few sheets of corrugated iron nailed together, but it was sturdy enough to sit on, the metal still warm from the sun beneath her thighs. Sky was orange with the sunset, casting Megaton in a bronzy glow; months out of the Vault, and it still managed to take her by surprise. Down below, hungry diners gathered at the counter of the Brass Lantern, chatting and laughing and slurping their noodles. Brahmin lowed as the herders filled up their feed troughs. Confessor Cromwell’s voice floated up through the din, preaching as always in front of a bomb now long since cold and harmless.

Luna took another sip of lukewarm Nuka-Cola, fingers tapping idly against the glass of the bottle, legs dangling over the edge of the roof. Been a while now, since she first stumbled through its gates, sunblind, disoriented, still bruised from the Springvale raiders, just barely holding herself together. In the cold light of morning, from the balcony in front of Moriarty’s, it had looked like a junkyard that might give her tetanus from staring too hard. Now, Megaton felt...cosy, comfortable, like a well-worn vault suit; not much to look at, perhaps, but it fit just right.

It was funny, maybe. She hadn’t really planned to stay, but they’d given her a house here, and… she hadn’t really planned on anything, really; just kind of assumed that Dad Would Know What To Do, like he knew how to comfort her when she woke up with nightmares, or bandage the graze on her elbow from when Wally Mack pushed her over and the boys laughed about it.

And now Dad was gone, and the freedom of choice was stifling; like when she first left the Vault, and the wide open sky felt like a weight overhead.

“What’s up, nosebleed?” Butch’s voice knocked that morose train of thought right off the tracks as he hauled himself onto the roof, wearing the same stupid smirk as always.

If you’d told Luna, just months ago, that  _ Butch _ of all people would be the last one from her old life to stick around, she’d have laughed in your face. If you’d told her that she’d ever find that familiar mug  _ comforting _ , she’d be on the ground.

He clomped over without waiting for a response, boots clanging on the metal, and sat down heavily next to her. He smelled of pomade and that cheap aftershave he’d picked up from the Rivet City market that Bannon  _ swore _ the ladies would love. (In fact, they did not).

“The sky, dickweed,” she answered, almost reflexively, taking another swig of Nuka.

Butch shuddered, smirk twisting into a grimace.

“Man, don’t even talk about it.” His eyes flicked warily overhead, as if the heavens might at any minute decide to come crashing down on top of them. “That thing still gives me the creeps.”

He took out a battered pack of cigs - still with a smear of raider blood on it - and lit one with his shitty old lighter that always took a few flicks to start a flame. He took a deep long drag of it, posing like that bad-boy actor they’d seen the other week in a faded scrap of magazine.

Then he started hacking his lungs out, like the last five times he’d tried this.

“Just thinking about shit,” Luna said, over Butch’s coughing. Gave him a few thumps on the back, for good measure.

“Yeah? Like how handsome I am?” He tried to look suave, slicking back his pompadour. The effect was rather spoiled by the watery eyes and the croak in his voice.

“No, dumbass,” she gave him a playful punch in the arm, chuckling despite herself. “Just, y’know, life and stuff. What the hell we’re gonna do now.”

“I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do,” Butch grinned, flicking the cancer stick down onto the walkway to fizzle out on the metal. “We’re gonna do whatever the hell we want, that’s what. No Overseer tellin’ us what to do all the time…” He folded his arms behind his head and leaned back, a smirk of contentment on his face. “It’s gonna be  _ so cool _ .”

“Oh?” Luna raised an eyebrow. “So, tell me, Butch; what’s the plan? What’s the first thing you wanna do with our new-found freedom?”

Butch shrugged his shoulders, looking supremely unconcerned.

“I ‘unno.” The lazy smirk did not waver. “I figure I’ll think of something.”

“What,” she snorted. “Just make it up as you go along?”

“Why not? Always worked for me so far.” And then he lifted his head and shot her the cheesiest fucking grin on earth, the fading sunlight shining off his greased-up hair. “You know no one’s better at thinkin’ on his feet than the Butch-man, baby. ‘Cause we snakes are  _ quick _ .”

Luna stared at him for a moment. And then for another. A sound like a deflating balloon escaped her lips before she shut them up tight, doubled over on the roof, shoulders trembling.

“Yo, nosebleed,” Butch called from behind her, half-concerned and half-weirded out. “You finally lost it?”

“Snakes don’t-” she mouthed around the giggles. “Snakes don’t even  _ have _ feet, you- Aah, nevermind.” She collapsed bodily onto the roof, fingers laced behind her head, the metal bumpy but warm beneath her back, and watched the first couple stars peek out from the evening sky far, far above, as the sun sank down below the horizon, and the lights of Megaton, strung up between the posts and over the railings, winked on.


End file.
